Things that Go Bump Down the Hall
by ArikaPhantomess
Summary: Fred and George are close. Really close. Closer than you would expect. Closer than Harry suspects, too. Oh, how you all will find out! One shot, Fred/George/Harry, Yaoi and Lemon.


A/N- This work was originally done for an LJ community (12th night). I had a lot of fun writing it- it's my first real piece of mature literature. As such...

WARNING- This work contains YAOI, EXTREME LEMON and a THREESOME. If you are Under 18 or Do Not Like this sort of thing, PLEASE TURN BACK NOW! Just remember, no one is making you read this.

xXx

George switched on the desk light and passed a hand over his eyes. Perhaps he had been at these formulas for longer than he thought. The numbers and letters swam before his eyes. Maybe he had been too hasty with turning on the light. Sleep would do him good right now. _No_, he thought to himself,_ I promised I'd have these finished in time._ George dipped his quill in the inkwell again just as a noise distracted him. A drop of black flew and landed on the blank he'd been about to fill. "Shit," he swore softly searching for a cloth or bit of scrap paper to sponge it off before using his wand, which lay inconveniently enough on the bookshelf across the room.

Fred was at the doorway. Though the times when the twins had needed to hide their doings was long gone, George was still inclined to twitch the papers out of sight before looking at the opening door. He stayed this particular instinct and instead smiled at his brother while pushing long red hair out of his eyes. Fred smiled back, but not so much in a merry way. The smile looked strained, more like a grimace, and George's own expression faltered.

The standing boy crossed the room slowly, never taking his eyes of his sitting counterpart. George didn't even think that he blinked. Fred stood over the high chair back and tenderly touched his twin's ear, or at least where it would have been only a few short weeks before. George started and looked up at his brother. Unusually enough, George was the one who initiated contact between them. Fred's sudden unwarranted intimacy was surprising and not a little unsettling. George caught his twin's hand before the contact made him jumpy.

"What's wrong?" asked George with a grin. "Are you mesmerized by my winning charm and dashing good looks?"

Fred only stared at his brother with watery blue eyes. "I just realized how close I came to losing you..."

George would have liked to write this off with a joke and a punch on the arm, but something about Fred's expression jarred him deeply. George stood and took his brother's hand. "It takes more than a curse to off me. You know that," he assured him, but Fred's expression remained the same. "Hey now...," George said, his voice becoming infinitely tender at the sudden glisten in his brother's eye. He drew Fred into an embrace, into which Fred surrendered himself completely. Fred clutched at George's back, breathing deeply of the old blue shirt still emblazoned with a "G." George buried his nose in the thicket of long, red hair and murmured nonsensical comforts. He stroked Fred's head until the shakings of his shoulders subsided. George loosened his hold and tipped Fred's face up to his. He smiled warmly into the tear-streaked pale face. Fred hiccupped and smiled back before reaching up to put his hand on the nape of George's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. George started for only a second before returning the sentiment thoroughly.

It didn't take very long before underneath the full-on game of tonsil-hockey, hands were wandering and Fred's shirt was hanging on by one, lonely button. Surfacing for air, George ridded himself of his sweater, unknowingly taking the shirt underneath along with it, but only partially succeeding. The result was such that the sweater was gone, but George's head and arms had disappeared into the tangle of half-off shirt leaving his torso exposed. Fred took advantage of this by trailing kisses down his twin's chest, pausing for lengths of time at tender and freezing nipples. George wavered in between freeing himself or biting back gasps of pleasure before his shirt fell off on its own and he was able to seize Fred by the shoulders. Using his teeth, he undid the final button of Fred's rumpled shirt and dragged it off his back to spit it on the floor. George then picked up his brother, which was impressive since Fred was larger than George was, and deposited him on the nearest of the twin beds. George straddled Fred's hips and took over the proceedings. He knew all of the places that Fred liked to be touched, usually because they were the same places he liked. None was overlooked. George smiled to himself every time Fred's chest rose to meet his lips. He liked the little whimpering sounds that his brother made best of all. Fred was the noisiest man in bed, ever.

Suddenly, Fred rolled out, pulled away and sat on the edge of the bead, freckled back facing his brother. "Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore..." George sat up and stared at his brother. Upon closer inspection via moving to sit beside him, a dark flush had risen in his twin's cheeks and Fred stared off at the walls with a most peculiar expression. "I mean, we've both got girls now," he continued, "And I really love Angelina... I think I want to marry her. Maybe this stuff was fine when we were younger, but don't you think we've grown out of it by now?"

George shook his head slowly, "Come on now, weren't you the one who said we're so alike it's practically masturbation?"

Fred turned his head to look at his twin, blue eyes shimmering. "Not anymore..." he said in spoken lament, touching the hole that now rendered them unalike.

George laughed- a sound like a bark. "Is that all? Here, let me go get a paper bag and solve the problem!" George moved as if he was going to leap off the bed, but was brought up by a hand and a laugh like amber bell tones, just as he had known he would be. "You always were the pretty twin," commented George, rolling over on his stomach and gazing at Fred over his fists. "If I _did_ wear that paper bag, you'd have all the girls."

Fred cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think I don't get girls already?"

"Angelina," replied George promptly, "and her right hook."

"Are you bad-mouthin' my woman?"

George rolled out of range of a friendly swipe and stood at the end of the bed. "So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?"

"This," said Fred. He leaped the length of the bed and used his momentum to push George back into the wall and pin him there. The bookcase on the wall shook dangerously so that a jar of marbles and two books were suddenly liberated. The marbles made awful pinging sounds against each other and one of the books fell open. The book was enchanted and played obnoxious can-can music upon opening. Fred, who was trying to only pay attention to snogging the life out of his brother stamped impatiently around trying to close the book without looking. He hit the book a few times before closing it each time the book made distress noises and changed the key of the music. When it was finally closed, Fred had worked them into the middle of the room.

Fred slipped his hand into the back of George's jeans to fondle a buttock. George's knee drew circles on the inside of Fred's bare thigh. Fred shivered which prompted George to step it up and stroke his sides following the lines of his body, but widely circling around Fred's crotch. Fred whined in his throat and attempted to intersect George's hand with his dick, but George knew it was coming and spun him around entirely, holding him by both forearms behind his back. With one hand he caught Fred's wrists and which the other, he disengaged himself of his trousers and pants. His massive hard-on sprang free gratefully, but quickly recoiled at the sudden cold of the room. The easiest solution was to press it into Fred's back and warm it between their bodies. Conveniently, this also trapped Fred's arms, so now both of George's hands were free to explore Fred's body and find new ways to make him moan with lust. Favorite spots were still the nipples and the line from the navel to the groin. George persistently teased Fred, coming close to touching him, but moving away at the last moment. Fred groaned and panted, each time breathing with more urgent need, "Please... please..." Finally, Fred couldn't take it anymore and ground his hips back into George's crotch until he speared himself on his brother's penis.

George shouted in both surprise and pleasure and drove hard into Fred. Fred bit back a scream and flailed his right arm out at the desk until everything made of glass hit the floor. Something in one of the containers produced a great quantity of yellow smoke, clouding the air, but something else crashed with a noise like twin teakettles and keened on for a long while. The brothers were barely aware of this as George was concerned with thrusting with great zeal and Fred only thought of stroking himself and the wonderful feeling of fullness. George was just about to remove himself and try a different position when a noise behind him arrested his attention.

"Guys, Your mum wants to know if you have any socks, she's putting in a... What the bloody---!?" Both heads of ginger hair whirled around to stare with astonishment into Harry's emerald orbs of shock and confusion. Fred and George barely had time to exchange a look before they fell out of the complicated embrace and bolted for the door. Fred seized Harry by the wrist and pulled him fully inside the room and George slammed the door shut after him, making sure it was locked good and proper this time. Harry looked from one furiously blushing face to the other. The shock was wearing away, but in its place came embarrassment and awkwardness. This may have been less due to the fact that he just walked in on the Weasley twins about to do the nasty, and more with the fact that Fred's still prominent erection was digging into an uncomfortable place. George bent over double, wheezing with laughter and resting his weight on his knees. Fred relaxed his death grip on Harry and gave into the release of tension with a chuckle.

"Good Morning, Harry! How do you like your eggs?" George said, wiping away small tears from his eyes. He could have done better, it was seven at night, after all, but the surprise had somewhat robbed him of his most clever comedy. He passed a hand over his face and smiled at the arrival.

Harry didn't smile and he stepped out of Fred's reach, "I'm not even going to ask what you guys were doing... I think that was pretty obvious, but I_would_ like to know why."

Fred looked puzzled. "What do you mean 'why', Harry? We do it because it feels good and we like it. You might like it too- very stress relieving."

Harry shook his head in an 'oh, you're playing with me' way. George caught the look in Fred's eye and stepped closer t Harry. "No really, we think you'd like it a lot."

Harry didn't back away. "Looks guys, I'm straight."

"We know," said Fred, noticing his brother's movements and copying them. "So are we. So are most of the Muggles in jail, come to think of it. It's just pleasure."

"Like masturbation," George chimed in. "Whacking off a dick now and again doesn't make you gay. Hedonistic, maybe."

Harry held up his hands and backed away a little. "Really guys, this is starting to get a bit creepy, here. Righty Palmer and I are happy with our daily therapy sessions- there's no need for supplements."

George stepped within reach and put his arms around Harry. "Are you sure?" He whispered into Harry's ear, breathing warm air onto his neck. Harry shifted feet uncomfortably.

"You can pretend that were girls, if you want," suggested Fred in a surprisingly fair imitation of a woman with a low, breathy voice. During the conversation, the twins had been losing their erections steadily. Now, with the electricity crackling through the air again, they were becoming more aroused by the second; and Harry could not resist it.

"Will anyone ever know about it?" he asked, the edges of his voice sounding husky.

"Not if you don't tell them," answered George in a low singsong way, beginning to kiss his way up Harry's shoulder.

"And it won't mean that I'm gay?"

"Too right. It won't." Fred teased off Harry's sweater and shirt.

Harry stared at Fred's freckled dick, which had slipped out of his trousers during the last engagement with George, for a good minute. "You know..." he said in a dreamy voice, "I've never really though about it... but now that I do... sex with a man might not be so bad." Harry's hand stretched out for what felt like eternity. Hesitating only once before contact, Harry wrapped his calloused hand around Fred's member and slowly began stroking it. Almost immediately, Fred's breath roughened. Harry's thumb danced circles at the tip, teasing the edges of foreskin that the twins were soon to learn he did not possess. Fred squirmed, edging his hips closer and making tiny mewling sounds in his throat. George, not content to just watch, came up behind Harry and stealthily removed his glasses. Harry's skin was gradually warming and two pearly beads of sweat clung to the short hair at the base of his skull. George knelt behind Harry and licked them clean, feeling little bumps rise over the rest of the lean boy's back. The redhead's hands went to work, trailing lightly over shoulder bones and spine, leaving no skin untouched. Harry turned to face Fred and brought his other hand around to cup his balls and tease them with his thumb. Harry glanced a question at George, who nodded, before slowly kneeling and dubiously pulled off Fred's jeans to pool at his feet, staring at his erect head the entire time. Evidently making a decision, Harry opened his mouth and licked the length of his captive's dick before taking it in his mouth.

"Oh God, Harry... I didn't know you could do that..." moaned Fred, knees trembling.

Harry shrugged and found a rhythm for his head. George knelt directly behind Harry and reached around for his jeans zipper. Harry tensed slightly, but didn't make any discouraging movements and George was able to free his new erection. George found the scene of his brother and Harry very arousing and would have liked nothing better than to stroke himself into oblivion, but he felt that Harry deserved a large something for his sportsmanship.

"I don't... think I can... stand much longer!" panted Fred obviously nearing coming. Harry solved his problem by lifting George onto his shoulders, backwards, and carefully rotating him 90 degrees to the floor, long Quidditch muscles bulging and sweating. Fred hardly noticed the feat of muscle, but he _did_ notice the intricate movements of Harry's tongue that were evidenced in the bulging of his throat.

Fred's "Oh!"s rose higher and higher with each swing of Harry's head. George looked around the room quickly. Once Fred reached the top of his vocal range, the only direction to go was louder and Fred was a screamer. Landing his sights on the desk, George threw some suspicious looking purple liquid at the wall, vial and all. Luckily, he picked something noisy. The resulting explosion sounded like two semi trucks running over the same skunk several times, and it smelled about like it, too. Harry, blessed trooper that he was didn't even break rhythm. Fred's back pounded the floor, announcing his release as well as an open mouth and a voice that could not be heard. Harry's eyes popped open in surprise. Deliberately the muscles of his throat flexed and he released a great expulsion of air. He waited until Fred's spasms had slowed and withdrew slowly, making small sucking noises. "God," he said after swallowing vigorously, "No wonder girls hate this... it tastes like shit!"

George handed him half a glass of flat pop from the desk. "Tastes worse than shit, really."

"And what would you know about it?" said Fred with a teasing expression. Harry stuck out his tongue at the redhead who fanned himself. "Your turn, George. I think I'm out."

Harry turned a questioning eye. "Well, only if you want to keep going, Harry," amended George. "We're very into consent in this room. Anal?"

Harry's flaming cheeks blanched. "Anal?" he repeated as if it was a dirty foreign word; which, to him, it probably was.

"You can give or receive, it doesn't matter. I personally believe that everyone should do it at least once in their lives."

"Well..." said Harry half to himself, "If I'm going to be doing this, I might as well do it properly, but I'll have to receive... I don't think I can give it."

"Harry," said Fred weakly from the floor, "I think I love you!"

George smiled at Harry. "Shall we then?" Harry put the empty glass on the desk in response. George embraced him softly, kissing the hollow of his throat, the line of his shoulder and all of the other delicious places that are sometimes skipped over on men. Harry moaned breathily and returned the favor to the best of his ability. George was surprised at the lightness of his touch. His guess would have been that sports players are rougher with touch. _Maybe not Seekers,_ he thought, loving ever second that Harry's lips were connected to his body. Fred appeared at his elbow with a vial that had a small amount of yellow substance in it. George recognized it and took it from Fred smoothly enough that Harry didn't even notice. George spooned a good amount out with a long forefinger and began stroking himself to get it on evenly. He stroked Harry a few times for good measure because it just felt good.

He backed Harry onto the bed with already-rumpled covers and laid him down lengthwise on it. "Are you still ok with this?" asked George a last time. Harry nodded. George set himself against Harry's opening and made a small motion that Harry should probably brace himself. Harry obliged and George pushed himself in. Whatever Harry had been expecting, that wasn't it, though he made almost no noise save one whimper, his eyes said clearly that it still hurt. George started with a few slow, small thrusts to get Harry used to the idea and to get himself under control as well. The feeling of Harry's ass was almost overwhelming. Harry seemed to relax into the feeling a bit, even if he still held onto the blankets with a good will, so George starting thrusting properly. The little noises that Harry made were so suddenly arousing that several times he had to slow himself to keep from coming just yet. Harry suddenly looked up with a daring grim on his face and began pushing back into George's thrusts, sinking him in even deeper. George rose to his challenge.

The headboard pounded a tattoo on the wall that, fortunately, wasn't shared with another room of the house. George played it like the head of a drum with Harry being the mallet, of course. Harry's knuckles blanched while gripping onto the sheets for all he was worth. This was nothing new for these sheets; George ripped them regularly. These days, it was much easier to hide it from Mum when they could repair them with the flick of a wand. Harry gasped like a fish out of water in punctuation to the ever throbbing pound and tears squeezed from the corners of his tightly closed eyes. George, on the brink of explosion, made to remove himself from the confines of Harry's arse, but was unexpectedly hampered by Harry himself, applying both hands firmly to George's buttocks.

"Stay in!" he gasped desperately with a low harshness known only to women in labor and men on the edge, "Please!" George, having little choice, felt himself gripped by a wash of explosive energy. There was no choice but to give in to the powerful hand that gripped his spine and lashed sparks through his muscles. His eyes squeezed shut so the blackness behind them seemed endless, but delicious. Beneath him, a thin wail rose that enticed gooseflesh to the surface. One by one, the major muscle groups loosened and George was able to remove himself from Harry's premises entirely. Fred left his observation post and handed each of them a washcloth. Even with magic, semen was hard to clean up. George collapsed onto the end of the bed.

Harry laughed weakly to himself. "Well, that explains the noises that Ron said were always coming from your room."

xXx

A/N- Thank you! Come again!


End file.
